Paris
A gentle, melancholy wind blows through this cruelly beautiful city, and scenes that stop me in my tracks appear and disappear like scenes from a movie.
“Paris Musette” spills out from the back streets, gradually painting the town, which is perfectly suited to the evening scenery.
I have had very little experience with fine French cuisine, either in Paris or in other cities in France, and very little experience of feeling hungry in those cities.
The scenery unfolding before my eyes always satisfied my hunger.
A friend from abroad was visiting Paris. As I headed to the train station to meet my friend, I wore a scarf around my neck.
That was the only attractive fashion I knew.
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